The Kellerman Variations: Perspective
by Cucumber
Summary: Kellerman and a pizza delivery girl exchange tales of woe. It will change Kellerman's outlook forever. (Rated R for adult themes.)
1. 1

The pizza girl walked tentatively down the pier to the boat. She'd never delivered a pizza to a boat before, and she wasn't entirely sure what the proper etiquette was. On the drive here she'd been hoping that the guy would be waiting for her on deck, but so far she didn't see anyone. She did pass a woman wearing scrubs and hobbling on crutches who was going in the opposite direction. The pizza girl might have asked her where the guy who called in the order was, but the woman (who the pizza girl assumed was a doctor) didn't look in the slightest bit happy. No sense in disturbing her.

Once at the boat, the pizza girl called out: "Mr. O'Malley, I'm here with your pizza!"

The pizza girl waited but there was no response. Well, Mr. O'Malley must be inside and couldn't hear her, she figured. She clambered on board the boat praying that she didn't accidentally lose her grip on the pizza and pitch it into the water. Now that would be embarrassing.

"Mr. O'Malley?" she said again.

Still no answer. She knocked on the door of the cabin.

"Go away," a voice said.

This mystified the pizza girl. Why would a man order a pizza and then refuse it when it finally came? It's not like it had taken long for her to get here. Sometimes people were funny like that. If it took too long to get to them they tried to stiff you on the tip and sometimes even the bill. But the pizza girl didn't work for a chain store that promised delivery within thirty minutes or the thing was free. She'd never encountered someone who completely refused the order, though.

Even though the pizza girl was convinced this guy was a hopeless case and wasn't going to tip her, at least she'd make him pay for the pie. She didn't want to have to eat the cost. She slid open the door to the boat's cabin and stuck her head in. The pizza girl still didn't see anyone. She ventured inside and only once she was a few paces in did she see Mr. O'Malley sitting on the floor in the back of the cabin. He was scrubbing his refrigerator. Weird.

"Mr. O'Malley, I'm really sorry about barging in like this, but I brought your pizza. One large with double cheese. That'll be fifteen dollars," the pizza girl said.

The man looked up and said, "I didn't order a pizza. Get off my boat."

"So you're saying you're not Joseph O'Malley of—" the pizza girl rattled off the "address" of the boat.

Without looking up this time, the man said, "You got the right place but not the right person. I'm not O'Malley. I don't know any O'Malley. Must have been a prank order. I'm really sorry, but this isn't my problem. Go away."

The words "prank order" were like a blow to the pizza girl's stomach. Lately there'd been a rash of them. They were hard to accept on a normal day, but today was not a normal day.


	2. 2

"A prank order," the pizza girl moaned. "Oh, G-d. I'm sorry for bothering you Mr. O'Ma—whatever your name is. I don't feel so good. Do you mind if I sit down for a minute? I promise I won't bother you."

"Whatever," the man said, and the pizza girl took it as permission to sit.

She took a couple of deep breaths and cursed under her breath, trying to be angry instead of upset. She blinked her eyes quickly to hold back the tears.

"Are you still here?" the man said a few moments later.

"Yeah," the pizza girl said quietly. "I guess I'll just leave the pizza. I don't need it and I won't be able to sell it to anyone else. But, don't—please, don't make me go yet. I just can't face it."

The man sighed. "Are you going to get into so much trouble because of one lousy pie? I'll pay for it." He stood up, got out his wallet, and went a few steps up to the front of the cabin where the girl was sitting. The pizza pie was on the floor and the girl was slumped in a chair, her long legs bare. He couldn't believe she was wearing a miniskirt in weather like this. Which suddenly made his blood run cold. This girl wasn't really here to deliver pizza.

"Are you a prostitute?" the man demanded. "Did someone send you? Was it Lewis? Did he put you up to this? Well, if he did, it's not funny, and it's not helpful. No matter what, the real problem will still be there in the morning." The man paused, but didn't let the pizza girl get a word in edgewise. "But you know what is funny? If you would admit that you're a prostitute, I could arrest you for solicitation. But if I take you up on it, I could be arrested for statutory rape. Damn, the least Meldrick could have done was pick a girl who was of age."

Now the girl was sitting up ramrod straight in the chair. She was completely bewildered by what the guy had just said. "I'm not a prostitute, I'm twenty-three, and I don't know anybody named Lewis Meldrick."

"Other way around. Oh, yeah, if you're not a prostitute, then what's the big deal if you got a prank order? No pizza store manager's going to beat a girl because of that. But if your pimp found out you couldn't close the deal—"

The pizza girl slumped again. "It's not the manager I'm afraid of. Johnny's a good guy. It's my mother. She was drinking when I left for class this morning. I'm afraid of what I'm going to find when I get home. She's probably passed out on the bathroom floor so it won't matter if I'm a little late getting home from my shift. And I got a test back today that I didn't do so well on. Today has just been lousy."

"My day wasn't the best either," the man said. "I'm sorry if I was rude to you. What's your name? I'm Mike Kellerman."


	3. 3

"Jessie Porter. It's nice to meet you. So, you're a cop?"

"A homicide detective, actually. You know, it really wasn't smart of you to come in here by yourself. What if I had been an axe murderer or a rapist?"

"I'm a pretty good judge of men. I can tell which ones are the creeps and which ones are nice. I could tell right away that you were nice."

"I've seen too many dead girls who went somewhere with a guy they thought they could trust. I know this is a cliché, but it's true: better safe than sorry."

Jessie shrugged.

Kellerman looked at her for a moment, thinking how odd it was that just a few hours ago his own head had been all jammed up with thoughts of his own problems, and now that he was talking to someone who was really hard up, his problems seemed very far away. They'd come back once she left, he knew, but meanwhile he'd try to cheer her up, do maybe one last good deed.

"You don't have to leave yet," Kellerman said. "Have a slice of pizza with me."

Jessie's eyes lit up. "Really? Do you mean that?"

"Sure," Kellerman said. He went over to a cabinet and took out a couple of paper plates, napkins, and plastic cups. He unfolded a card table that he hardly ever bothered with when he ate alone. Then he picked up the pie from the floor and slid it out of its keep-warm pouch. Then he got out another chair so he could sit across from Jessie. "Do you want something to drink? I've got orange juice or milk."

"Milk would be great, thanks."

Kellerman brought the milk to the table and poured for them both. Then he "served" the pizza. The girl seemed really grateful. Kellerman couldn't help but contrast this with the times that he and Julianna Cox had eaten pizza here together. One of the biggest differences was that there wasn't any booze. The milk made the whole thing seem so fresh and innocent.

They ate their pizza in silence for a few minutes, then Kellerman asked Jessie was she was studying in school. She blushed slightly before answering.

"I'm majoring in archaeology and minoring in accounting. I'm going to end up being an accountant even though I don't want to be. But poor girls don't get to become archaeologists, especially when they have to take care of their alcoholic mothers." The last sentence came out bitterly. "But at least I won't have to be an accountant for another couple of years. I'm only in school part time and at this rate I'll never get out of there."

"I'm sorry," Kellerman said. "But maybe there's something else you can do other than accounting. Teaching is a steady job. They're always looking for teachers. Or even a cop. You've probably got enough college credits that they'd give you a signing bonus. Being a detective is a little like being an archaeologist, if you think about it. They both have to work to piece together the story of what happened at a particular time and place."

"That makes sense, that an archaeologist is like a detective. I never thought of it before," Jessie said.

"Honestly, neither did I," Kellerman said with a grin. "How would I look in Indiana Jones's fedora?"

"Good," Jessie said.

Their knees bumped slightly as Jessie leaned forward to take another slice of pizza.


	4. 4

"Is your father around at all?" Kellerman said. He didn't think there was anything he could do to help her situation, but it seemed to him that she needed someone to talk to.

Jessie swallowed the bite she'd been chewing and said: "My parents were divorced when I was eight. My dad ran off and never paid a penny of child support. I haven't seen him since. That's when my mom started drinking. She never went to college so she doesn't have any skills except for the typing and shorthand she learned in high school, so when she's sober enough, she works as a secretary. You don't know how many jobs she's lost because after a night of drinking she didn't bother getting up the next day. For a while I tried to call her work for her, tell them that she was sick and would be in the next day, but a person can only sick so many times.

"I've been working since I was fourteen. I do most of the shopping, the cooking, and the cleaning. If I got a real job—you know, nine to five—I could probably get us a slightly better standard of living, but I knew I needed to go to college or I'd end up like her, or married with five kids by the time I was thirty. I need to get away and I need to stay close. I worry about my mom, but . . . but I worry about myself, too. I don't know what's going to happen to me.

"The truth is, I have considered prostitution and stripping. They pay a hell of a lot more money than delivering pizzas."

Jessie was looking down at her plate as she said this.

"Look at me," Kellerman said. But she wouldn't look up. He reached over, put his hand on her cheek, and slowly nudged her face up until she couldn't help but look at him. "Promise me you're not going to do that. Ever."

"There are days that my mom spends all her salary on booze. Some of those days I don't eat," Jessie said, looking right into Kellerman's eyes.

"I'll help you sign up for food stamps, Jessie. You're a beautiful, smart girl. You don't want to go down that road. Drinking destroyed your mother's life. Selling yourself would destroy yours."

Jessie pulled her head away from Kellerman's hand. "I don't want to go on welfare."

"Fine, but promise me you won't think about prostitution anymore."

"You can't make me promise anything. What do you know about being poor? I never heard that cops make that much money, so you must have inherited a mint to be able to afford this boat," Jessie said.


	5. 5

Jessie had assessed the situation completely wrong, which made Kellerman want to laugh. She thought he came from money. She didn't think that he had paid for the boat with the money from the (nonexistent) bribes. Suddenly he was really glad that someone had put in a prank order and used his address.

"You are so off base," Kellerman said. "I live on this boat and it's mortgaged up to the hilt. I may not miss any meals, but believe me, I have to be real frugal to keep current with the payments."

"Oh, yeah? Well, then, what's your big problem? I don't see any problems here."

"You never saw my picture in the newspapers, then?"

"No."

Kellerman considered his situation for a moment. The real truth was that he needed to talk to someone about it. Until now, he'd been so alone in his fight to clear his name.

"Before I was in Homicide, I was on the arson squad. About six months ago, me and a few other guys from the squad were investigated for having taken bribes. They were dirty and I knew it, but I wasn't. Our faces were all over the news. Nobody believe that I was innocent, not even my partner. And then yesterday I was basically exonerated. The other arson guys were indicted, but I wasn't. Which is a good thing, but people still don't believe me. The way they look at me when I'm the office; they don't trust me. And if they think they can't trust me, then they won't want me around. They won't want to work with me. I don't know if I'll ever be able to redeem myself in their eyes. I don't know if I'll still be able to be a cop after this."

"Oh, Mike, I'm sorry. I believe you. It's no consolation, I suppose, but I do," Jessie said.

Kellerman nodded. He said, "Do you want to see something?"

He didn't wait for Jessie to answer. He just got up, went down to the kitchen, and came back with his gun. "Do you know what this is? It's my service piece. It was on the kitchen counter. As I was cleaning, I was thinking about it. I was thinking about eating it for dinner."

"Pizza is a much better dinner than metal," Jessie said, her voice quavering.

"Yes, it is," Kellerman said, then tucked the gun into the night table, which is where he normally kept it. He knew he wouldn't be taking out again until his shift started in the morning.

Kellerman looked at Jessie and felt an overwhelming desire for her. Again he couldn't help comparing her with Julianna. Julianne had been by not ten minutes before Jessie had, but when Kellerman had told her to go away, she went. What sort of crazy relationship did they have?

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Kellerman blurted out.


	6. 6

"No. Do you? Have a girlfriend, I mean," Jessie said.

Now Kellerman really did laugh out loud. He loved the way this girl made him see how absurd his life was. It was comedic, not tragic, that he slept with Julianna twice and yet they'd never gone on a real date. He and Julianna didn't owe each other a damn thing.

"No," Kellerman said.

They reached for each other almost simultaneously. Their kisses were desperate, almost like tonight would be their last on earth.

Kellerman pulled Jessie onto the bed. Her legs were so smooth.

They clung to each other. And they both cried a little, knowing that what Kellerman had said earlier was true: No matter what they did tonight, their problems would still be around tomorrow.

Afterwards, they lay in each other's arms, not wanting to let go. Kellerman was amazed that he didn't crave a cigarette or a drink.

"What are we going to do with ourselves?" Kellerman said.

"Maybe I'll try to take some time and sign up for food stamps," Jessie said. "You?"

"I'm going to try to ignore the looks in the squadroom. I'm going to try to believe that in time this'll all blow over," Kellerman said.

"Our lives aren't going to magically get better, but we're going to get through them all right," Jessie said with determination.

"Yes, I think we will," Kellerman said, and kissed her.

A sudden knock on the door shocked Jessie and Kellerman. They nearly leaped apart.

"Don't go anywhere, I'll get rid of whoever it is," Kellerman said, and got out of bed. He pulled on a robe, and opened the door about five inches. Standing there was Lewis.


	7. 7

"Hey, Mikey, I just came by to see how you were doing," Lewis said.

"I'm fine, thanks," Kellerman said casually.

"Great, good. Listen, can I come in for a few? It's getting damn cold out here," Lewis said, rubbing his hands together for emphasis.

Kellerman glanced over at Jessie, who was poised to jackrabbit.

"No, you can't come in," Kellerman said.

Lewis was about to argue but stopped himself when he noticed Kellerman's robe and tousled hair. He took a step back from the door.

"Oh, sure, I got you, no problem. I'm leaving. But tell me for real, Mikey—you gonna be all right?"

Kellerman glanced over at Jessie again and smiled. "Yes, Meldrick, I'm going to be fine."


	8. 8

Stivers and Kellerman burst into Mahoney's apartment.

"Drop the gun, Luther!" Kellerman yelled as soon as he saw that it was aimed at his partner. He also took in the fact that Mahoney looked like he'd been beaten to a bloody pulp. By Meldrick, obviously, since he was the only other person in the room.

"What are you going to do—read me my rights?" Mahoney said, and laughed.

"You have the right to remain silent," Kellerman started, but couldn't go on. Even if they arrested Mahoney, even if they put him in jail, it wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't bring back Tomo Roh or the woman who Mahoney accidentally shot in the park today. Mahoney deserved to die and Kellerman decided that he was going to be the one to execute justice.

But as he aimed for Mahoney's heart, Jessie Porter's face swam before his eyes. He heard his own voice telling her that by selling herself she'd be destroying her life. The way that Benjamin Roh had destroyed his own and his mother's by trying to avenge his father's death.

The way Kellerman would be if he killed Mahoney now. Technically, since Mahoney hadn't dropped the gun, Kellerman would be fully within his rights to shoot him, but he knew that Mahoney wasn't a threat. It might be legal to shoot him dead, but not moral. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he killed Mahoney.

"Drop the gun," Kellerman said again.

Mahoney just kept laughing.

Kellerman aimed his sights a little lower and squeezed the trigger. Mahoney went down, screaming.

Kellerman had knee-capped him.

"Just a little something for you to remember me by," Kellerman said, smirking, as he stood by and watched Mahoney writhe in pain. "And by the way, Luther, we're the ones who switched the drugs." Kellerman turned to Stivers. "Call it in. It's an officer-involved shooting."

As Stivers called for an ambulance, Kellerman kicked the gun out of Mahoney's reach and went over to Lewis, who looked a bit pale.

"You all right? You have a problem with what I did?" Kellerman asked.

Lewis looked over at Mahoney, then back at Kellerman. He said: "Nope. I just never knew you were such a good shot."

"I've been putting in my time on the practice range," Kellerman said modestly.

A moment later Mahoney bellowed, "You're going to pay, Kellerman!"


	9. 9

Lewis and Kellerman turned to look at the source of the voice. Mahoney wasn't on the floor, he was charging at them with a deranged look on his face.

Without hesitating for a second, Kellerman lifted his gun and shot Mahoney. He fell to the floor and didn't move.

"Is he dead?" Kellerman asked.

Stivers went over and checked for a pulse. She couldn't find one. "Yeah."

"I've never killed a man before," Kellerman said.

"That was a righteous shoot, Mikey. Did you see the way Mahoney was coming at us? I don't think a dozen bullets would've stopped him," Lewis said.

"I know," Kellerman said. "Meldrick, should I feel bad about this?"

"No, you shouldn't. Mahoney was scum of the earth. But unless you're not human, you probably will.

"I'm real sorry I wasn't there for you during the whole bribery thing. I regret that. But I'm here for you from now on, if you ever need me," Lewis said quietly.

Kellerman thought about Jessie Porter again. Hey, Jessie, wherever you are, maybe change doesn't come magically, but sometimes a bullet can work wonders.

FINIS


End file.
